


Catharsis

by McRaider



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angry Aziraphale (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Quote: You go too fast for me Crowley (Good Omens), Sad Crowley (Good Omens), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Notes, perhaps it's time I sped up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 09:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20132857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McRaider/pseuds/McRaider
Summary: Six days after the apocalypse that wasn’t, Aziraphale finds a letter made out to him, it holds more horror than he could’ve ever imagined, but it also leads to him and Crowley finally, finally talking about what they’ve both wanted for so long.





	Catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware mentions/discussions of suicide and some cursing, because it’s Crowley and Aziraphale gets upset. Bonus points to anyone who figures out what the line “I love you, don’t you know that” is from, because it’s driving me absolutely bonkers but it’s so familiar.

It had been six days since the averted Armageddon, and Aziraphale found himself sitting, rather uncomfortably, in Crowley’s desk chair...was it a chair or was it a thorne? Either way, Aziraphale found himself sitting at Crowley’s desk, with a cup of tea and a book in the other hand while Crowley slept in the room. 

Why Aziraphale was here was a matter of recent contention between the angel and demon, Crowley refused to talk about what was bothering him, but for the last four nights he’d called Aziraphale up in the middle of the night sounding positively frantic. 

The angel didn’t mind of course, he didn’t need or enjoy sleep the way Crowley did, so he’d always come over to offer his support, for what he never really knew. Tonight they’d had dinner at Aziraphale’s favorite sushi place and had watched a movie on Crowley’s uncomfortable couch. Which the thought of that made Aziraphale wonder why everything in Crowley’s house was seemingly uncomfortable. Pushing that thought aside, Aziraphale shifted his legs, his knee bumping into a desk drawer that he didn’t even realize existed. 

Grinding his teeth at the jarring pain he winced as he set his book down to rub both hands on the abused knee cap. When his eyes landed on a piece of paper with a single word written on it: _ ANGEL _

Brows furrowing, Aziraphale bent over and picked the piece of paper up, unfolding it from it’s trifold, his eyes ran over the letter, the words. The further down they got, the wider his lake colored eyes grew. 

_ My Angel, _

_ If you are reading this, then everything we hoped for, everything we strove to avoid has come to pass. With that painful knowledge that our world will be ending and that we’re doomed to face off together, I must be entirely honest with you. You weren’t entirely wrong when you talked about the Holy Water being a suicide pill. Though that was never my true intention for it, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered it. I’ve thought about this, I won’t let some other bloody angel smite me, and I’m certainly not going back to Hell. I can’t...I can’t let you be the one to destroy me. I’m sure you could do it if it meant staying in Heaven’s good books. I...I can’t let my death weigh on your conscience and soul. I love you, have loved you, for six thousand years. I’m sorry, it’s better this way. _

_ _ A. Crowley _ _

Aziraphale felt his mind reel as he swung from scared to angry, then to furious, back to scared for his best friend. He felt sick, and hot all at once, sweat prickling at his brow, despite the fact that he was now shaking. 

He stood to his feet, tea and book forgotten, with only letter in hand, made his way towards the bedroom. He flicked the light on and in a moment of utter dramatics, that Crowley would say he’d always been capable of, the angel snapped the blankets away. The demon grunted and sat up, looking around wilding, his sunglasses on the bedside table. “Angel, what the bloody hell--” his sentence dropped off when he saw the piece of paper in his angel’s hand. “Oh…”

"Oh?” Aziraphale snapped, brows creasing, “Oh, I find a bloody suicide note from you, and all you can bloody well say is OH!” White hot fury was coursing through the angel’s veins, if there’d been someone he could’ve smited, it’s likely they’d be gone by now. The only person, however within reach was the one person Aziraphale loved most in all the universe. 

“Angel, it’s not what you think,” Crowley tried to reason, but it was exactly what the angel thought. Even Crowley couldn’t get out of this one, he’d had his reasons of course, but trying to explain that to an enraged angel was going to be an effort in futility. 

The piece of paper was all but flung at Crowley, as if suddenly it had burned the angel, self righteous hands on perfectly round hips, and an equally angry, albeit adorable, face stared Crowley down. “Then tell me, tell me exactly what this isn’t? Because you assured me that wasn’t what you wanted the Holy Water for.” 

Crowley opened his mouth to speak, only to find himself incapable of doing so, he wasn’t sure what he could, should say to make this better. His lack of words seemed to incite Aziraphale further, “You said ‘that’s not what I want it for!’ You said those exact words when I suggested it was a suicide pill, didn’t you?” 

Crowley had enough brains to study his hands and the letter ashamedly, “Yes, I said that, and that was mostly true.” 

“Mostly true! Mostly--” The angel shook his head, “I should’ve known better than to trust a fucking demon.” 

Now Crowley felt his own heckles raising in anger. “OI! I said it was partially true, but I didn’t initially plan for it to be used any other way than as insurance,” Crowley explained as he sat up in bed a little more. “Angel, I swear to you, I wrote that letter when I was certain that we’d be fighting against one another in a Holy War. I...I wasn’t going to let another angel or demon get to me and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let you live with the possibility of having to smite me to prove your loyalty to Heaven.” 

As soon as Crowley uttered it, he could see that it was the _ wrong _ thing to say, because a moment later the very tartan flask he’d been given by his angel was now being clutched in one hand with absolute fire and fury raging in those usually calm azure eyes. “But you were willing to take the cowards way out, is that it?” His voice shook, whether from rage or something else, Crowley didn’t know. “Let me find you some miserable puddle so I could blame myself without ever knowing until after it was too late? Is that it? You didn’t want to have to look me in the eyes as you were destroyed by my hand. You wanted to slink off like the slimy little snake you are and die like a bloody coward!” Aziraphale knew his words were cruel, they were meant to target the heart of the demon he loved. After six thousand years together, it was impossible not to be an expert at causing one another pain. 

Crowley’s mouth floundered as he tried rapidly to grasp at mental strings to pull this back under control. He couldn’t, nothing he could say was going to justify what he’d done, what he’d written in that note. So Crowley sat there, shame faced, staring down at his all too human body that could easily be destroyed by something as simple as a tartan flask of water. 

Aziraphale took a slow breath, then another before he closed his eyes, tears trailing their way down his cheeks as he looked down at the flask in his hand. Yelling wasn’t the right approach, and it certainly wasn’t the one either of them needed right now. As angry as Aziraphale was about this, he was hurt by it too, because for some reason, Crowley assumed Aziraphale would be capable of living without him. That he would be capable of forgiving and moving on. It meant that Crowley doubted his worth to Aziraphale, and the only person responsible for that self doubt, was Aziraphale himself. 

“Do you have any idea how I would’ve...what I would’ve done if I had found just a...just a puddle of...of you. Of the demon I’ve spent years being friends with? Crowley, why do you think I never wanted you to have this in the first place? Because I knew exactly what it would do to you, if you ever used it or had it used against you. How...how could you think so little of me, that you’d ever write this note and think I could live with myself? I thought...I thought we meant more to one another than this, this stupid note.” 

Crowley felt his own eyes burning as he struggled to swallow past the boulder that appeared to have lodged itself in his desert dry throat. Finally, after a few seconds he managed to choke something out, as if he was a drowning man finally getting a gasp of air, “I know how you would’ve felt.” 

“Do you?” Aziraphale badgered, not quite ready to let go of his anger. 

When Crowley looked up, his face stole away every last bit of anger and righteousness away from the angel that remained, along with the ability to breathe and think. Written on Crowley’s face was absolute distress and pain, Crowley suddenly looked every day of his six thousand odd years. “Yeah, because I felt the same thing when I thought you’d died,” his whispered his own face starting to crumble as he struggled to maintain control. 

Aziraphale’s brain was struggling to catch up, not quite recalling when he’d ‘died’. “What do you mean?” Then it hit him, he’d found Crowley in a bar, drinking away his liver and any chance at saving their world. He’d said ‘I lost my best friend’. He’d looked wrecked, like nothing would ever make his world okay again. “You meant me,” Aziraphale whispered as he sank down on the bed, sitting opposite of Crowley. 

"Course I meant you, barmy idiot. Who else would I have meant?” Snapped Crowley, his own anger suddenly peaking like a small solar flare, because he’d been so scared, and so hurt at the idea of his best friend being gone. “You’re the only friend I’ve ever had in six thousand bloody years, and suddenly you were gone, and I didn’t know if it was hellfire, or regular fire, or something else entirely, I didn’t know...and the last words I ever said to you were that I’d never think about you.” He choked, slapping his hand over his mouth and groping around for his sunglasses on the nearby table so Aziraphale wouldn’t see his weakness. 

Aziraphale reached out and stopped the faltering hand, “Don’t hide, not now Crowley. Not from me.” 

“I’m sorry, I...I didn’t want you to have to face me down in battle, I couldn’t bear the idea that we’d come face to face and you may choose...I didn’t want to risk that you’d choose Heaven over me.” 

It was the angel’s turn to stumble for something to say, something to assure his demon. His hand still on Crowley’s wrist, his other hand came up to cup Crowley’s sharp cheekbone, “I love you, don’t you know that?” Aziraphale shook his head, more tears sliding down his cheek. “I’d forsake Heaven, Hell and even humans if it meant being with you. Surely you must ...you must know that.” 

Crowley took a deep shaky breath at Aziraphale’s words, “I...I’d hoped, but you always said I went to fast, or denied our friendship. I was sure…” Crowley turned and pressed his lips against Aziraphale’s palm, before letting out a small sob. 

Scooting forward, and cupping his hand around the back of Crowley’s neck, he drew the demon forward, letting the red head come to rest against his shoulder as Crowley shook with sobs. “I thought I lost you,” Crowley wept. 

Wrapping his own arms, followed by his large white wings around the demon, Aziraphale cuddled him closer and finally let his own tears start to fall. Perhaps it would be the necessary catharsis they both needed. He let the fears of losing Crowley wash over him like soothing waves crashing gently on a beach. 

Neither angel, nor demon knew how long they sat there crying into one another’s arms. Perhaps seconds, or minutes, or it could’ve been hours. But as both drew apart, despite how swollen their eyes felt, and how tired both now seemed to feel, there was a renewed sense of peace. They remained close, Aziraphale’s wings back out of sight, but his head still bowed to Crowley’s, foreheads touching. Breathing one another in, like they were sharing their energy with one another. Aziraphale reached up with both his hands to cup Crowley’s cheeks. “I love you and I’m sorry I never said it earlier. I’m sorry that I ever let you believe you weren’t worthy of my love.” 

“M’not though, just a demon.” 

Aziraphale shook his head furiously, “You’re my demon, and my friend. Crowley, you’ve waited an eternity already, I think it’s time for me to catch up a bit.” 

Crowley let out a small huff of laughter, before he rested one of his hands against Aziraphale’s chest, feeling the familiar thud of the heart below. “I love you too, always have.” 

Aziraphale smiled, before those words hit him, “Always?” he asked pulling away just slightly to look his demon in the golden eyes. 

Crowley smirked, “What can I say, I’m a sucker for an angel who doesn’t always follow the rules.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” Crowley asked. 

“Oh, I wish you would,” Aziraphale replied with a smile. 

As their lips met for the first time, a chaste kiss turned into a hungrier kiss, mouths opening slowly, as they took their time and slowly started to get to know one another. When the two finally pulled apart, each breathing a little heavier, one of Crowley’s hands came up to caress Aziraphale’s cheek. “I love you too, angel.” 

“Quite right to,” Aziraphale smiled, “But no more horribe letters like this.” 

“Aye, and no more disappearing in flames.” 

“Promise.” 

Their lips met again, in a slow and sensual kiss as they once more let the days and weeks worth of events slip from their minds and poured out all their heartache and took in all the love that had been waiting centuries for them. 

End

**Author's Note:**

> Response to Good Omen Kink meme Prompt: There's the Holy Water... an uncomfortable part of him knows that Aziraphale wasn't 100% off the mark when he called it a suicide pill. But that use was only for a last resort, and he needs it to escape Hell's clutches at the moment, on the off chance that Aziraphale may change his mind.  
He's never liked fighting. He's wily and clever, if it comes down to all out war he knows he'll be able to survive a while, but not forever. If it comes down to war and Aziraphale still doesn't want to leave...He's NOT going to let himself get smote by some other angel. He has more self respect than to let himself be smote by Michael, or even worse, GABRIEL. And if Aziraphale, at the end of it all, decides that if there HAS to be a war, then helping Heaven win is still the better outcome... He knows he'd never be able to hurt his Angel, his greatest love. He wouldn't want any other angel to take him down... if it all came down to it, letting Aziraphale vanquish him would be the only thing to do. He wouldn't want it to be anyone else. And then the bookshop goes up in flames and nothing matters anymore. And then the Apocalypse very much DOESN'T happen, and eventually, Aziraphale finds out. Post apocalypse, Aziraphale finds out that if everything had gone completely to war and Aziraphale stayed, Crowley was planning on letting Az smite him.


End file.
